You Pulled Me From Hell
by Ammendiana
Summary: A mentally fragile Dorothy Catalonia goes to live with a certain Gundam pilot...with romantic results. Highly OOC. Please don't complain at me.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is for Hidel the Gohan luvin', Duo huggin', GWDBZ chick. Pones!

You Pulled Me From Hell

by

Ammendiana

_Chapter One_

Quietly, a blonde-haired woman walked down a nearly silent street, deep in her own thoughts. Her hair, once impossibly long but now cut to a medium length, caught in the wind, which joyfully began playing with the soft, golden strands. Eyebrows that had once been split into prominent forks now arched gracefully over long-lidded icy-blue eyes. Her entire face seemed to be slanted, but that only added to a beauty that had once been fierce. But the only word that could describe it at this time would be torn.

_Earth has changed so much since the end of the war. Even the air feels different..._her thoughts had centered much around this difference since she had arrived from the colony on which she had been hiding since A.C. 196. It was now A.C. 204, and Dorothy Catalonia no longer existed.

Or, at least, the Dorothy Catalonia that had left Earth eight years ago no longer existed.

_So many years seem to have passed since I was last here, but it's only been eight. Well, if space and time are one and the same, the time should seem longer because I have come very far away. _Inwardly, she laughed at her thoughts. _So philosophical._

The leaves of the trees that lined the small, winding street had long since donned their autumn attire of crimson, saffron, and topaz. The smell of winter was light in the air; it was the scent of the time when the Earth sheds the frocks of the other seasons and takes a much-needed siesta. Winter was probably Dorothy's favorite season. For her, it had always seemed so relaxing. And that had been what she thought would help her when she left. But she had been wrong.

Idly, she wondered where Quatre was at that moment. She hadn't talked to him since before she left for _her _siesta. She had often wondered what it would have been like to be one of his close confidants; she had never had the chance to become one. Her problems had become too blatantly obvious to ignore any longer. Therapy hadn't been helping, and she had felt herself falling deeper and deeper into a well of depression that seemed to have no bottom. Dorothy had longed desperately to find the bottom of that endless well. To reach the bottom meant that she could start ascending; the reach the bottom meant that she couldn't sink any deeper.

Absently she rubbed the crescent-shaped scar around her neck through the high neckline of her thin black windbreaker. She had thought of the bottom as a safe haven, but her ignorance had nearly cost her life.

Now she was able to admit that the longing for the bottom of her endless well was just her laziness and unwillingness to change. The first thing she had done after her moment of clarity was the pluck her eyebrows. She had always been proud of them; they had been a most distinguishing feature, after all. But they were a remnant of her old life, just like her long, blonde hair. She refused to wear any color that reminded her of her life before her 'rebirth', as well: brown, white, pink, and gray were all taboo. The only colors she wore now were blue, green, and black..

She had even considered changing her name, but decided not to. She liked her name just as it was. She had laughingly admitted to her therapist that she didn't think she could answer to any name except Dorothy.

Involuntarily, she shivered. The chill wind had brought her out of her reverie. She was no longer a woman who thrived and fed on war, triumph, and death. She was no longer a woman who judged people by the amount of blood on their hands. She was no longer a bratty teenager with an overly exalted opinion of herself. She was...well, she didn't really know what the Hell she was anymore, but it certainly wasn't any of those things.

_I wonder how Relena is doing. _Dorothy turned the corner of the street absently, studying the cement without actually noticing it, trying not to look into the sunlit horizon.

**_Whack!_ **She ran head-first into a solid mass of flesh and bone.

"I'm so sorry!" She exclaimed as she rubbed her head, squinting her eyes to see the man, who was backlit by the setting sun.

"It's fine, Dorothy." The voice was achingly familiar; deep and rumbling, almost like a bear's voice, if bears could speak.

"Milliardo?" The question was vague and quiet.

"Yes. You look different, Dorothy."

Summing up her courage and her hope that it wasn't just a dream, she raised her face and looked up at the man she had been in love with forever. At least, it seemed like forever.

He hadn't changed but, then again, Milliardo Peacecraft never changed.

"I hope it's an improvement." Her rejoinder was only a little shaky.

He smiled, "It is. Do want to get some coffee?" He offered a gloved, long-fingered hand.

Dorothy shivered, and not just because she was freezing, "I'll drink urine as long as it's warm." She slid her own hand into his, resisting the urge to latch on.

Laughing, Milliardo replied, "That won't be necessary. Come on. The place is fairly close."

The coffee shop was tiny and charming, and the warm air inside was flavored with a delicious blend of coffee and freshly-baked pastries. Shivering because of the shock of walking from a cold street to an extremely warm building and the shock of meeting the man she loved so suddenly on the street, Dorothy ordered a large black coffee and a chocolate muffin.

Milliardo ordered a double-decaf latte with mocha sprinkles and they walked over to a table, which still had a dusting of crumbs from the previous customers. Milliardo gestured to a server, who quickly scrubbed it with a towel that was probably none too clean. Milliardo then pulled out a chair, and invited Dorothy to sit in it with a courtly hand gesture.

With a sigh of relief Dorothy sat down in the small, pseudo-bistro chair, took a swig of coffee, and a bite of her muffin. Happily she munched on her breakfast as Milliardo sipped his latte. The silence was companionable, but Dorothy longed to hear the sound of Milliardo's voice again.

"How's life treating you, Milliardo? The last I heard you were working on that terraformation project."

Milliardo set down his latte and Dorothy had a very difficult time keeping herself from laughing aloud. Despite herself, she snorted with amusement.

"It's going well, myself and---What _is _so funny, Dorothy?" His voice was a trifle confused and irritated. Milliardo had never had much of a sense of humor.

"Y-you have a-a l-l-latte m-m-ustache!" Unable to control herself any longer, Dorothy burst out laughing as Milliardo almost daintily dabbed his upper lip with a paper napkin.

"As I was saying, my wife and I are doing very well with the terraformation project...we're actually ahead of schedule."

Dorothy felt her heart break and fall in halves at her feet. But this did not show on her face.

"I didn't know you were married," Dorothy commented passively as she took another bite of her muffin, chewing slowly because the very taste of the chocolate was making her ill.

Milliardo's eyebrows shot up, "You didn't?"

Dorothy swallowed her bite and confirmed, "I was--and still am, I guess--officially clueless. Please enlighten me."

"Lucrezia Noin and I were married last year. I'm surprised you didn't know, given the fact that it was in all the newspapers."

Dorothy took a sip of her coffee and admitted, "I don't read the newspapers. Where I was, news wasn't really the top priority."

"And where exactly were you, Dorothy?"

"I was in a mental hospital, Milliardo," she confided as she searched his face for the adverse reaction she expected, but the only indication that he had absorbed what she said was a small, sharp blink of his eyes.

"Why?"

Instead of answering right away, Dorothy pulled down the neck of her coat. The pale pink scar around her neck shone softly in the dim light of the coffee shop.

"I tried to hang myself."

Milliardo's eyes were unreadable as he looked at the scar.

"Why?"

Irritably, she closed the neck of her coat and pointed out, "You seem to be asking that question a lot lately. Why open old wounds?"

Milliardo had never been the type of person, in her eyes, to dig into places where he wasn't welcome. He also wasn't the type to deal with people who had problems, especially mental problems. He caught her eyes with his own for a moment and Dorothy met his gaze. He looked away first.

"I have to go, Dorothy. It was nice to see you again." He rose, the chair legs scraping loudly, almost vulgarly so, on the poured cement floor. His long hair whipped as he turned on one heel and exited, his passing marked by the tinkle of the small bell tied on the door's handle.

And as quickly as he had re-entered her life, he was gone. _Like wind, _she thought wryly.

The days seemed to pass with maddening slowness. Reasons for going in search of Milliardo and telling him her feelings battled against her reluctance to do possible harm to him and his wife. This time, unlike most others, reluctance won. So alone Dorothy stayed. Alone in her apartment with nothing around her except memories that didn't need to resurface, feelings that were like small dragons, biting away bits of her sanity.

The smell of her own apartment nauseated her. She longed for an escape. Again she felt herself falling down, down into that bottomless abyss with nothing but her own raging grief and repressed emotions as companions. But the fall was faster than the last time, and this time she hit the bottom hard. There was no time to prepare for the end of the fall this time.

_Click,_ the sound of the clip being shoved into the gun echoed through the empty apartment like thunder.

_Ring_ went the unanswered phone.

_Whoosh_ went the last breath out of Dorothy's aching lungs and raw throat.

_Bang_ went the gun that Dorothy had pointed to her head.

_Crash _went Dorothy's body as it fell to the hardwood floor, taking with it a small end table crowned with a crystal lamp.

And the gun skidded across the room.

And blood spread into a puddle on the hardwood floor.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. _

_Why am I alive?_

_Beep. Beep. Click. Click._

_Where am I?_

_Whir. Whir. Beep. Click._

_This is _not_ Heaven._

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_Or Hell._

Reluctantly Dorothy opened her eyes. The hospital room was painted stark, impersonal white. Machines were attached to every limb that was convenient. Her head ached and she breathed a sigh of disappointment. The sun had set already, leaving her room unlit save for the lights of the machines that surrounded her like a concerned family. Laughing at herself for thoughts of family, Dorothy struggled into a sitting position. Her head felt light. Summoning strength, she reached up. Sure enough, her head was shaved.

"Why won't they just let me die?" She asked no one in particular, but the question was physically directed at the itchy hospital sheets that covered her too-thin body. _I'm a wraith. I'm not even truly alive anymore._

"Maybe because the world isn't finished with you yet, Dorothy Catalonia." Another voice. But this one was a light, friendly tenor. "Also because they get paid to keep you alive."

Looking over at the doorway, Dorothy recognized Quatre. It was strange to see him again, especially in a place like this.

"What are you doing here, Quatre?" Dorothy didn't have the strength to sit up anymore. With a sigh she leaned back on the hard hospital pillows.

Quatre, who had been leaning up again the doorframe, pushed away from it and walked towards her bed.

"Relena found out you were here. She's been sitting with you for the past two weeks. But she could only ignore her work for so long before she started to chance impeachment, so she called me." He examined her thin form through the hospital sheets, and shook his head. "Why, Dorothy?"

Evading the question, Dorothy asked, "Two weeks?"

Quatre, accepting that she didn't want to answer his inquiry, answered, "You were in a coma. You're lucky you can still see, considering how close the bullet came to taking out your eyes...not to mention the rest of your face. You're damned lucky." He pulled a chair up to her bed and sat down.

She stared at the ceiling, and whispered to herself, "Didn't ask to be."

It was a wonder to Dorothy how much Quatre had changed. Glimpses of the teenage boy still shone through this man's facade, but this Quatre was one that seemed to have let go of some of his ideals a long time ago. But he had changed physically as well. He was taller than he had been, his hair was trimmed, and his slight frame had filled out a bit. All in all, Dorothy thought she liked the result.

"Hmmm. I wonder if they'll send me back to the mental hospital. I don't think I could take isolation again." Dorothy didn't realize that she had voiced this thought aloud.

"I don't know. What I _do _know is that there is something wrong with you, Dorothy, and it's not something that someone else can fix for you."

"Don't you think I know that!" Dorothy yelled angrily at the blonde man.

Quatre was not fazed by her outburst. "No."

Tears spilled unheeded down her face, "Why won't they just let me die?'' She asked the question again, desperately wanting an answer.

Quatre rose from his chair and walked over to her bed. Leaning over until he was only about a palm's breadth away from her tear-streaked face, he told her, "Life is a gift. Try not to throw it away. After all, you're not a Gundam pilot." He smiled self-deprecatingly and, in spite of herself, Dorothy found herself smiling.

Righting himself, Quatre started to leave the room.

"Where are you going, Quatre?" Dorothy asked.

Quatre looked over his shoulder at her, "I'm going to call Relena and tell her you're awake. Besides," he commented impishly, "You need your beauty sleep."

Dorothy strongly fought the urge to chuck a pillow at him.

"Dorothy?" A light, mature, feminine voice asked.

Opening her eyes, Dorothy saw Relena standing next to her bed with a concerned look in her eyes.

"Hello, Relena. How are you?" Dorothy managed to summon enough strength to smile at her friend. Or, at least, she thought they were friends now.

"I've been better. And, by the looks of things, so have you."

"Don't shower me with compliments, now. It could go to my head."

Relena smiled warmly and gave a rich, throaty laugh.

Sunlight poured through the half-covered window at the east side of the room. It made the largely impersonal, unwelcoming room just a tad more friendly. Dorothy struggled into a sitting position with the help of the flexible bed.

Relena sat on the end of Dorothy's bed and looked at the wraith that had once been a fiery woman whom she had respected more than she had let on.

"Dorothy, I'm not going to ask you why you did this. It's not my business. But I'm going to give you some information about what the doctors might do about this."

Dorothy looked out the window and said only, "I'll jump out of that window if you say that they're going to put me in a mental ward again."

"You're going to have to build up the strength to walk to it, Miss Suicide. Now listen."

Dorothy looked at Relena and growled, "Please, inform me."

Relena gave her a hard look, "Well, from what the doctors told me, there are very few options. They could send you to the mental ward, but I don't think any of us want that."

"Who's 'us'?"

"Me, you, and Quatre. There is another option."

"Let me guess. They put me in the custody of a guardian of sorts, and a therapist comes to make surprise house calls whenever they feel like it."

Relena looked surprised, "How did you know?"

"I've been through this before. I've had lots of practice."

"Then why did you go to the mental hospital?"

Dorothy's voice was flat as she answered, "When you don't have anyone, who's going to protect you?"

Relena didn't answer.

"So, which one is it going to be? You, or Quatre?"

Relena shrugged, "Quatre. I have work to do."

"Doesn't he?"

"Helping people _is_ Quatre's work."

"Hmm. He didn't go and get a psychology degree while I was away, did he? I don't think I'd like that."

"I think you'd like mental wards less. And no, he didn't. So, what's it going to be?"

Dorothy smiled and said drolly, "Looks like Quatre has a new roomie. I'd live with Wufei Chang if it was what it would take to keep me out of a mental ward."

Relena stared at her incredulously for a second, then chortled heartily.

"What's so funny?" Quatre asked from the doorway.

"Your new roommate."

"Oh, really? So she agreed?" Quatre asked Relena as if Dorothy wasn't there. Dorothy was positive he was just doing it to annoy her.

"Well, she said she'd live with Wufei if it kept her out of a mental ward."

"Desperate much, roomie?"

"Shove it, Quatre."

"Well, Dorothy, Thursday you're coming to the Winner estate. What will you do next?" Quatre asking jokingly.

"Take a nap. What day is it?"

"It's Tuesday. You have a whole two days to resign yourself to living with me, Don't bring any swords or anything." Quatre left again, waving goodbye. Relena and Dorothy were alone once more.

Dorothy watched him go. Then, as soon as he turned the corner, she chucked a pillow at the door. It slid on the black-and-white, checkered linoleum floor, only stopping when it hit the opposing wall.

"What happened that changed him so much?" She asked as Relena retrieved her pillow, which now had a streak of dirt on it.

Relena shrugged as she stared at the doorway. "Life."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: This is for Hidel the Gohan luvin', Duo huggin', GWDBZ chick. Pones!

You Pulled Me From Hell

by

Ammendiana

_Chapter Two_

Thursday came as quickly as a snail in a salt flat. It seemed that the near endless hours were only a torment; a punishment for not appreciating the gift of life.

The day itself was hectic. She didn't really notice what was going on around her. The one thing she did notice, however, was that her head itched something awful. She absently scratched at her scalp for the five-hundredth time—it seemed—that morning.

Quatre, who was sitting next to her in the back of his Mercedes, asked her playfully, "You didn't get lice in that hospital, did you?"

Dorothy negligently hit him with one hand and told him, "I don't have any hair for them to live in, doofus. Besides, lice only live in really clean hair, so getting them is a compliment."

"Yeah, uh-huh." He ran his fingers through his hair, "I hope you like your room. I took so much time fixing it up. If you want, we'll go into town and you can see if there's anything you'd like to add." For a minute, Dorothy saw the kindly, gentle boy she had known shine through the sarcastic facade she knew now.

Touching his wrist, she assured him, "I'm sure it will be fine."

He smiled at her, his old, gentle smile. Dorothy thought she saw a lost child in those gray-blue eyes, but it was gone in an instant. She assumed she was just seeing things.

"If you look around the bend here, Cat, you'll see the mansion."

Dorothy looked at him, one eyebrow raised, "Cat?" She asked mildly.

Quatre shrugged, "My housekeeper's name is Dorothy, and it could get a bit confusing."

Dorothy sighed, "As long as it's not 'bitch,' I can stand it."

"Well, it won't be. That's my cook's name." Quatre murmured under his breath.

"Bitch?"

"Oh, you said bitch? I thought you said Naomi."

Dorothy laughed and turned to get a glimpse of her new home. It was a huge, stately mansion built of white granite. It consisted of a main building and two long, crescent shaped wings that cradled an immaculately landscaped driveway and courtyard. A huge, artfully sculpted fountain sat in the exact middle of the courtyard. Each wing was lined on one side by a colonnade, and where the wings ended, a hedge began, blocking all view into the backyard grounds, which were, Dorothy supposed, equally magnificent. All in all, it was a beautiful place.

The room Quatre and the housekeeper Dorothy showed her was spacious, and flooded with light from the many windows that lined the room. The walls were done in a toned-down cherry red and cream. Some of the windows were French doors that led out onto a balcony, and the bed that was the centerpiece of the room was large enough for five people, and covered with a goose down stuffed cream comforter and silk sheets. Dorothy winced. Those would have to go. But the rest of the room was lovely.

"I love it, Quatre. But those sheets and that comforter have to go."

Quatre looked at them, puzzled, "Why?"

Dorothy shrugged, "I'm allergic to silk."

"Oh. That _would_ be a good reason, wouldn't it?"

"The only way it could be a bad reason is if you like seeing people breaking out in hives."

"Good point. Well, then, tomorrow we'll go shopping."

"Sounds good."

Shopping had been more exhausting than she thought. Since the bed was so huge, they had to have the sheets custom made. Therefore, Dorothy had to sleep in another bedroom until they were done. They asked her if she just wanted to move into another room, but she said she liked the one they gave her, and waiting for a week would be a small price to pay for flannel sheets.

Her hair grew back quickly, as it always did. By the end of the week it was nearly an inch long. Quatre gagged about her 'going butch,' but, aside from those little bouts of mutual teasing, they got on well together. For some reason, no matter how bad she was feeling, he could always make her laugh. He reminded her of her father in that respect, but something about Quatre Winner puzzled her as well. She just couldn't quite place it.

The only label she could give it was that it reminded her of her own pain. Pain that, by that time a month had gone by, seemed farther and farther away.

"Relena! What are you doing here?" Dorothy yelled from the top of the stairwell at her friend.

"I'm selling Avon products! What do you think I'm doing?"

Dorothy laughed and skipped down the stairs.

Quatre came onto the scene from a side door. _Naomi probably chewed him out again for coming into her kitchen. Sometimes she really is a bitch._ Dorothy laughed at the thoroughly-scolded looking Quatre silently.

"Has Naomi been picking on you again, Winnie?"

Quatre scowled at her, "I've asked you repeatedly NOT to call me that!"

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

Relena stepped in just as Quatre started to deliver a retort, "Now children. Play nice."

"Yes, mother." Quatre and Dorothy said in perfect unison.

"Actually I've come to tell you guys I'm having a huge party this Friday and I need some people who aren't trying to get into my political pants there."

"Really?" Dorothy asked as she entwined her arm in her friends and lead her towards the sun room.

"Political pants?" Quatre mused as he followed. No one acknowledged him.

Dorothy released Relena's arm as they entered the beautiful sun room, its walls painted pale green, and it's furniture done in purple, green, and white, with the odd gold-satin pillow.

"It's just your run-of-the-mill brown-noser bash," Relena explained as she sat in a ivory-cushioned dome chair and Dorothy plopped onto a pile of lavender pillows. Quatre lounged on a chaisse, looking tired. "Milliardo and Lucrezia will be there, which I'm sure you're glad to hear, Dorothy. You always did like my brother."

"Hmm. I imagine this is formal?" Dorothy inquired smoothly as she accepted a cup of tea from Deliana, who took care of any job that Naomi or Dorothy the housekeeper didn't.

"Of course." Relena, too, accepted a cup. "I have plenty of gowns, if you need to borrow one."

"No, I can get one for myself, thanks." Dorothy sipped her tea, "After all, we all remember that little blue number you used to wear. You know, the one that made you look like you had stolen clothes from someone's grandmother."

Quatre snorted into his tea, and Relena scowled. "I liked that dress. It was vintage!"

Dorothy smiled evilly, "Vintage what?"

Relena turned her head and huffed. "Oh, shut up, eyebrows."

There was a loud coughing noise as Quatre began to chortle while in the middle of a sip.

"My eyebrows were distinguished!"

"You mean dis-FREAK-ish!"

"That was the dumbest retort ever!"

Quatre just rolled on the floor, laughing uproariously.

One day, Dorothy lay in a lounge chair on her balcony, watching the sun disappear over the horizon. The sky was a beautiful, lively rose shot with violet and goldenrod. It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

She heard a door open behind her. Quatre walked onto the balcony and looked blankly at the sunset. The slant of his shoulders, and the narrowing of his eyes told her something was wrong.

"Quatre, what's wrong?"

Quatre turned to her. His eyes were shadowed by a pain that Dorothy had seen many times in her own face.

"Did I ever tell you I had a little girl, Cat?" Quatre asked quietly.

Dorothy, unable to answer, shook her head.

Quatre seemed to have lost interest and wandered over to the balcony railing. Dorothy rose from her chair and joined him there. Quatre took a deep breath and began to speak, his voice tightly controlled and quiet.

"Her name was Sadira. She wasn't my biological daughter. I adopted her when she was seven years old. That was three years ago. I loved her so much, Cat. She was my baby. But then she started to have these blinding headaches and migraines..." He took a deep, but shaky, breath and continued. "They found a tumor in her brain. It was so deep that they couldn't operate on it."

Despite the sadness of the story, Dorothy noticed how handsome Quatre looked, bracing himself with both arms on the railing and looking down at the ground.

"Oh, Cat!" His voice came in sobs, "I had to sit there and watch her die in that blasted hospital! There was nothing I could do!" He grasped his leaking eyes with one hand and drove his fist into the stone railing in angry sorrow. "She died as I held her, helpless. Even after they covered her, I kept praying for a miracle. But praying didn't keep us from covering her with dirt a week later." His teary voice became hard and mocking.

"Oh, Quatre..." It was the only thing she could think to say after that sorrowful tale. She never would have guessed.

"And today is her birthday! I could stand the pain if I just didn't have to see this day every year for the rest of my life. Do you know what it's like, Cat, to loose something so precious to you?"

Dorothy wrapped her arms around her sobbing friend and consoling stroked his hair, "You forget, Quatre, that I lost my father and mother very young. I haven't had anyone for years." She pulled his head up and looked into his bloodshot eyes. "Until I came here, that is.

"I owe you so much, Quatre." Dorothy smiled and kissed his cheek, and then disengaged herself from his loose embrace. Turing to watch the sunset, she began to tell him a story of her own.

"You asked me once why I tried to kill myself. I'll tell you. I lived alone for so long. I have been alone for so long. The only family and friends I had existed only in pictures. Being totally alone for so long does strange things to a person. I felt myself, my essence, falling into a dark, bottomless abyss with no way out. When I hit the bottom, the only thing I knew was pain. I tried to hang myself. That was the first time."

Quatre had stood next to her but said nothing. She fingered her neck absently and continued, "I came back to Earth to find Milliardo Peacecraft, to tell him that I was in love with him, and had been for a very, long time. It seemed like it had been an eternity." Looking back, she laughed silently at herself.

"When I did find him, by accident, I found out that he was married. And my whole mind started to fall apart again. I wanted to tell him, but in my heart I knew that it would make no difference. He didn't love me, and he never would. The abyss swallowed me again, but this time the bottom came so fast that I couldn't prepare myself." Shaking from the effort of telling her story, she continued.

"I tried to shoot myself. I didn't want to live because there was nothing to live for. Being lonely, I think, can drive anyone to suicide."

Quatre stared at her, speechless. The silence dragged on for a long time.

"Then, perhaps, we need each other?" Quatre asked reluctantly.

"I need you as much as you need me, Quatre."

Quatre smiled, "I need you a lot, Cat."

Dorothy smiled and looked at the man standing next to her. A light breeze teased his tousled hair. She reached for his hand and grasped it tightly. Laying her head on his shoulder, she let out a small sigh.

Quatre turned his head and looked down on her, his small grin just a bit surprised. Dorothy looked up at him and smiled. She felt his arm wind itself around her lithe body and tighten to bring her warmth closer.

Quatre looked back at the sunset and whispered, "I love you, Dorothy."

Dorothy felt a panic she couldn't explain rise in her throat, choking her.

She said nothing.

How could he? HOW COULD HE! Dorothy screamed inside her head as she clutched one of her huge pillows close her body, pummeling it mericilessly. He knew that she still had unresolved feelings for Milliardo. He knew that she couldn't handle this kind of thing right now. But he had said it anyway.

I love you, Dorothy.

Damn him! DAMN HIM! Dorothy sat up, throwing her pillow across the room, angry at it for not making a more satisfying thud when it hit the floor. Then she grabbed another and pressed it to her face, screaming into it ferally.

"Why? Why did he have to tell me that? Couldn't he have waited? Just a little while? I can't...I can't...Oh, God..." she sobbed. Realization dawned on her; she had fallen for him long ago, but she had panicked when he had whispered those words to her. And now who knew what their relationship would be in the morning?

And what would she do if, in the morning, what had been love was turned into hate?

Quatre sat trying to read on his rumpled bed. He thought that he had read the same page at least ten times by the time he finally gave up and dropped the book unceremoniously on the thickly carpeted floor.

Sighing, he sat up and looked out of the window of his room, where the soft moonlight shone through the clear glass to dimly illuminate the deeply red carpet.

_It almost looks like blood._ Quatre mused idly as he ran a hand through his messy hair, and sighed again. He couldn't think, couldn't sleep, could barely eat; he felt like a giant, walking cliché. Dorothy's silence reverberated in his mind like the mournful tolling of a church bell. Again, and again he relived the moment.

In order to keep their friendship, he would pretend like he hadn't said anything. If she asked, he would blow it off as platonic love, not the romantic love that pulled and twisted his guts, made his mind cloudy with happiness and frustration, and drove him crazy with ever-growing attraction.

Growling in frustration, he got of his bed and walked over to the window. His svelte, swimmer's build was outlined and highlighted in the moonshine, every muscle in perfect relief and outlined by the tight cotton cloth of his threadbare white t-shirt. His red satin pajama pants whispered against his skin as he walked. Nothing seemed to soothe the aching pain in his soul and he was sure, so very sure, that Dorothy still loved Zechs. He hated him so much for that love.

Agitated, he ran his hand through his hair again. He needed to sleep. He knew that. But taking sleeping pills would just be an escape from his problems, not a meaningful solution.

So there he stood, like a rock in the moonlight, breathing heavily and thinking of Dorothy.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: This is for Hidel the Gohan luvin', Duo huggin', GWDBZ chick. Pones!

You Pulled Me From Hell

by

Ammendiana

_Chapter Three_

"You look beautiful, Cat. Absolutely stunning. Simply breathtaking," Quatre told Dorothy as she stomped into the dining room wearing her flannel kitty pajamas, big, furry polar bear slippers, mussed hair, and a sleepy frown.

"Don't smart-ass me this early in the morning. I'm not awake enough to fight back." She instructed him as she plopped down into the chair across from him. Naomi placed a plate of sausage, eggs, and French toast in front of her, with a huge cup of black coffee that made Dorothy's eyes light up happily.

"It's decaf." Naomi told her with a wicked look in her eyes.

Dorothy looked at her with shocked, hurt eyes, "What did I ever do to you, Naomi?"

"Nothing. I was joking. It's as strong as I could get it without having to license it. Enjoy."

Dorothy threw her arms around Naomi in a surprise gesture of affection, "I love you, Naomi. You bring me caffeine."

Naomi laughed and disengaged herself from the sleepy woman's arms.

"Anyways," Quatre said after he was done laughing at his half-asleep housemate, "I was just practicing for the banquet."

Dorothy, who was halfway done with her breakfast already, gave him a doubtful look. Quatre in return gave her a look of wide-eyed innocence.

"Yeah, right. You were smart-assing me. I know you better than that." She shook her French toast loaded fork in his direction.

"Would I do that?" He asked in a mock-injured tone.

"Yes."

"Cat! I'm shocked at you. Shocked."

"Who cares?" Dorothy asked the ceiling as she downed half of her coffee.

"I don't!" Naomi called from the kitchen.

"I don't!" Dorothy the housekeeper called from the dining room doorway.

"I don't! What don't I care about?" Relena called from right behind Quatre. Dorothy hadn't even noticed she was there, considering the fact she was drowning in strong black coffee bliss.

"Winnie being shocked."

"Oh, I was right. I don't care," Relena said as she hugged Quatre's shoulders with one arm.

"Everyone is against me," Quatre said mournfully to his morning cup of tea.

"Yup," Dorothy agreed as she munched on a sausage link.

Relena sat down at the table next to Dorothy. Naomi brought her the same breakfast, and she dug in greedily.

"Man, it's great to have someone feed me for a change. Speaking of which, Quatre, I need to borrow Naomi if it's alright with her and you."

Quatre inquired, "What for?"

Relena rolled her eyes and sighed, "My son-of-a-bitch chef quit this morning, and I can't find another replacement in time. It will just be for tonight. Please?" She gave Quatre a patented puppy-face look.

"As long as it's alright with Naomi, I don't care."

Naomi poked her head out of the door to the kitchen. Dorothy had never noticed how pretty she was, with long raven hair and mocha colored skin. "As long as what's alright with me?"

Quatre replied, "Relena needs a cook for her banquet tonight."

"Do I get overtime?"

Relena called, "I'll give you a thousand dollar bonus!"

"Hell, I'll even wash the dishes myself." Naomi told Relena as she bounced back into the kitchen.

"That won't be necessary, sweetie!" Relena called after her.

Dorothy, in spite of herself, was a little nervous as she dressed. She curled her hair and pulled back the individual curls with miniscule glittering blue butterfly clips. She put no makeup on, save dark red lipstick. She was completely satisfied with her appearance after she was done.

Pulling a long, formal coat from her closet, she walked out of her room regally.

Quatre waited at the bottom of the stairwell for Dorothy. He played with his antique pocket watch more than a little nervously. _Why am I nervous?_ He asked himself, puzzled.

Quatre looked elegant in his formal wear, which consisted of a pair of sleek black slacks, a white vest, shirt, bowtie, and a black jacket with long coattails. His blonde hair had not been tampered with, except for some skilled combing.

"Ahem." The voice from the top of the stairs caught Quatre's wandering attention immediately. Dorothy was, to put it very blandly, shining. Regality poured from her every pore and follicle, and she stood silently, waiting for Quatre's reaction.

He couldn't speak. He was, for the first time in his entire life, awestruck.

Dorothy climbed down the stair quickly, and Quatre offered her his arm. Accepting it, she decided, "I think I liked that reaction better than your smart-ass practice round this morning."

"You always look stunning to me, Dorothy," Quatre whispered in her ear with sincerity. Dorothy blushed slightly and asked imperiously, "Are you flirting with me, Winnie?"

Quatre laughed, "Maybe."

The huge ballroom in Relena's state palace held more people than Dorothy expected. Now she truly appreciated Relena's definition of banquet. Skillfully, she and Quatre wove their way through the throng and to Relena, who stood with a man who, Dorothy assumed, was the representative. She didn't look to be to happy to be with the man, in any case.

"Ah, Dorothy, Quatre, this is Tezuka Ryu. He's the representative from L-1. Representative Tezuka, these are my dear friends Dorothy Catalonia and Quatre Raberba Winner."

"Hello, Mr. Tezuka. Welcome to Earth," Quatre greeted Tezuka smoothly as he offered the man his hand to shake. Tezuka ignored him. Quatre's eyes became steely as he withdrew his hand. Relena gave Dorothy a 'this-guy-is-an-ass-but-I'm-stuck-with-him-for-the-night' look.

Dorothy didn't bother to greet the man. Instead she looked around the ballroom, examining the men and women, the decorations, anything to distract her. Quatre's closeness was making her edgy. It had been awkward ever since that night; they had simply ignored the fact that it had happened, and gone on. But his nearness was making Dorothy decidedly uncomfortable—in a strangely pleasant way.

"Relena! There you are!" Dorothy heard the familiar voice say. Happily, Relena turned around and greeted her brother.

"Hello, Milliardo. It's been awhile." Dorothy's greeting wasn't at all awkward or strained; she had been over him for quite some time. Lucrezia Noin stood next to her husband, resplendent in golden silk.

"Why, hello Dorothy! I didn't expect to see you here," Milliardo sounded less than pleasantly surprised to see her.

"Dorothy Catalonia! I would have never expected to see you here," Lucrezia said with a happier tone. "It's been quite awhile, hasn't it? Almost a decade."

"Yeah."

Quatre tapped Dorothy's shoulder, "Cat, would you like to dance?"

Dorothy turned and gave him a blinding smile, "Of course. But I'm sure to step on your feet."

"Well then I'll be sure to do the same, so you won't feel left out."

Dorothy replied dryly as she placed her hand on the offered arm, "You're so generous."

"I do my best."

Quatre led her onto the dance floor and they joined the waltz effortlessly. Despite her protests, Dorothy knew how to dance.

"Well, they certainly make a cute couple," Dorothy told Quatre as they spun.

"Who? Oh, you mean Lucrezia and Milliardo." But Quatre said nothing more. Something was wrong; Dorothy could sense it as strongly as she could sense his other moods.

"What is it, Quatre?" Dorothy asked concernedly.

Quatre looked as if he would have liked to say something, but had a hard time making it come out. He worked his jaw with the effort.

"Are you still in love with him?" He blurted finally as the waltz ended.

"What?" Dorothy was shocked. But Quatre never got the chance to answer. He was swept away from her in the crowd of people who were leaving the dance floor to take their seats at the banquet table.

Some mistake made by Relena's staff sat Dorothy on the opposite end of the table from Quatre, so she wasn't able to speak to him at all while they ate. She spoke very little to those who sat with her, only short sentences and monosyllabic answers.

It seemed to take hours for the assorted people to eat a single course. All of the food tasted like sandpaper to Dorothy anyway. She picked at it like a finicky bird.

"Go enjoy the gardens, everyone. No need for you to wait for the slow eaters," Relena said magnanimously, allowing all the people who were finished to leave without seeming rude.

Dorothy took her advice. But instead of going to the gardens, she went back to the ballroom. It was so empty and dead without anyone in it.

The shoes she wore made clicks on the marble floor that resounded throughout the hall.

"Cat?" Quatre asked from the doorway which she had just walked through a second before.

"What did you mean, Quatre?"

"I meant exactly what I said. Do you still love him?"

"Who!" Dorothy nearly shouted in her agitation.

"You know who!" Quatre stood in front of her, leavning less than foot between them.

"Well..."

"Well what?" Quatre snapped.

"You're so cute when you're irritated, did you know that?"

"God! You frustrate me so much! Do. You. Still. Love. Him? That's all I want to know!" Quatre was flushed with anger.

"No. I. Do. Not. Does that answer your question?" Dorothy was becoming frustrated herself.

Quatre looked at her, and then caught her eyes.

Then he breathed a sigh of relief, and the anger drained out of his face. "Thank God."

"For what?"

"For that."

"Sometimes you're so specific it scares me." Dorothy's tone was sarcastic.

"A little fear never hurt anyone." Now something else was bothering him. She could tell by the way he was fidgeting.

Dorothy walked up to Quatre and, in a whispering tone, asked, "Now the real question is: Why do you care so much?"

Quatre looked into her eyes for a moment, and then said, "You know why I care. I told you once."

"I wasn't ready to hear it then. I think that you should try again." Dorothy slid toward him, their faces close to each.

"I love you, Dorothy." His breath caressed her face as he spoke.

Dorothy wrapped her arms around his neck and responded, "I love you, too."

Before Quatre could say anything else, Dorothy kissed him. It wasn't a deep kiss. Or, at least, not at first. But as he relaxed it became deeper, and longer.

Dorothy found herself gasping for air when it was over. Quatre smiled, and wrapped his arms around her waist covetously.

"Now that that's over, what do you say we head to Relena's broom closet for a little game of 'Seven Minutes in Heaven'?"

Dorothy pushed him away, laughing loudly. "Yeah, right. You aren't getting me that easily, and I don't even know if Relena has a broom closet."

"Oh, really? Gonna play hard to get?" He lunged for her, grabbing her hand and pulling her back into his embrace without much difficulty. "That's perfectly fine with me."

Dorothy lifted her head and smiled at him. Smiling back, he grasped her chin with his long fingers and kissed her again, gently.

Dorothy continued to live with Quatre, although some of the staff regarded it as 'living in sin.' Quatre had told them quite plainly that no one was forcing them to work there, and he didn't want to hear another thing about it.

Dorothy's therapist, who had only come two or three times in the half-year she had lived with Quatre, had cleared her some time ago. She was ready to live once again, and she had never been so happy in her entire life.

As they sat at the dinner table, Quatre was nervous about something. Dorothy, with her Quatre intuition, had an idea as to what it was, but hadn't said anything, reasoning that it was nice to see Quatre squirm every so often.

"So, love, do you have anything you want to talk about?" Dorothy asked calmly over her wine glass.

Quatre jerked and Dorothy smiled inwardly.

"Actually, I do," he took a deep, shaky breath that practically sang his nervousness and continued, "We've been living together for quite awhile now, and I was thinking that maybe it would be nice if we, well..."

"Well what?" Dorothy knew, of course, but she was having far too nice a time watching Quatre sweat.

"Dorothy, you know I love you, and, um..."

"I love you, too. Now will you just spit it out?"

"Cat, will you marry me?" Quatre asked quickly as he held out the ring.

It was a very pretty ring, platinum set with star sapphire.

Dorothy smiled stunningly at him and said, "You didn't even have to ask. Of course I will."

Quatre gave her the happiest smile she had ever seen in her life, and she felt her heart exult. He took her hand and placed the ring upon her finger.

He got up from his chair and pulled her out of hers, taking her into his arms and starting to sway. Softly, music started to play in the background.Dorothy smiled to herself, "This was a conspiracy!"

Quatre whipped her around. "Of course it was. But you enjoyed it, didn't you?"

She laughed out loud, "Yeah. You're are a great actor, Quatre. I think you missed your calling."

And, laughing, they danced for an hour before sitting down to plan the wedding.

_**Two years later...**_

"What shall we name her, Cat?" Quatre asked an exhausted Dorothy as he rocked his new daughter in his arms.

Dorothy stretched, looking at her daughter and husband lovingly.

"I like the name Kathlin."

Quatre thoughtfully looked at his daughter. "Hmmm...Kathlin. I like it. But what about her middle name?"

"What about Sadira?" Dorothy broached gently. Quatre smiled sadly and, looking at the small, golden haired girl, whispered, "Kathlin Sadira Winner. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

Dorothy smiled and held out her arms towards her husband and baby. Quatre rose from his chair and gingerly passed the baby to her mother.

"Well, it sounds good to me."

Quatre embraced his wife and daughter warmly, kissing Dorothy on the forehead, "And just think of it, Kathlin, you have twenty-nine aunts to spoil you."

The baby cooed, her little hands grasping the air. Dorothy and Quatre laughed.

"Yeah," Dorothy said, "The only thing we'll have to pay for is college."


End file.
